Iron Flame Novels & Stories

I skimmed the text, my eyes darting from line to line, trying to make sense of it. *Project Inferno— Weaponization of Wildfires.* My breath caught in my throat. Weaponization? what the actual hell...? I flipped through the pages, my pulse quickening as the details unfolded before me.

"Run!" Orabella shouted in alarm. Gideon had vanished, but she didn't believe he had been blown to ashes. He must have escaped. Sure enough, scorching flames burst underground, transforming into two thin chains, shooting toward Orabella and Leomer. They looked small, but the pressure they exuded was immense. Even their armors felt like they were about to melt. These flames were from the Earthcore Flame. It wasn't just any Earthcore Flame. It was the purest essence of fire, its temperature unimaginably terrifying.

I prayed once again to the three gods I usually prayed to, Balder for purity of spirit so that I could go into this battle with a pure heart and not one filled with hate, to Idun for rejuvenation to keep me alive and finally to Tyr so that my vengeance would be accepted and I asked all three to keep Bryan safe. I opened my eyes as I envisioned our success, I could taste it and I wanted it. I closed my eyes again as I heard Bryan. “Hriga hringr hlif, hriga hringr hlif.” I concentrated and the green flames started burning in my hands. “Hriga hringr hlif.” I joined in his chant and I saw the circle lift slightly. We kept on chanting as the green flames burned brighter, the circle started shakin

(Caelum Ashborne) Slowly, carefully, he opened his hand. The ember bloomed instantly—not weak, not hesitant, but tight and furious, a compressed coil of gold-deep flame that snapped and writhed above his palm as if angered by restraint. It burned hotter than anything he had called before, its colour rich and layered, streaked with pale light that caught his breath. It lit the scar-channel like a small altar, turning black stone to glass. The wind tried to steal it. The flame clung anyway, stubborn as blood.

The word was hard and I trailed my fingers over him, knowing these symbols sometimes meant there was a thick scar which has been covered but somehow, I was still fascinated by every one of them. Maybe because I already knew he was far from been a good boy because it was obviously a gunshot scar but the tattoo was a burning flame. “Tell me what one means.” “No.” I couldn’t stop touching him not only because he was hands-down the sexiest man I’d ever seen but because he was the most fascinating cold-mannered professional on the outside, and a dirty-playing criminal below the surface. I wrapped my hand around the flame tattoo on his arm. “This one, please tell me what this one means and then I’

It hasn’t rained in at least a week, the forest is very dry. For a moment the flames dance in a way that makes me think they are trying to tell a story. I shake my head but the flames continue to form the shape of people. Suddenly the people begin the run from a darkness that makes the flames disappear for a moment. What is going on? The smoke fills my lungs and I begin to gasp for air. I look up, the smoke in the sky is black and thick. The smell of burnt pine is making it hard to breathe.

Ember is dressed in fire-forged armor, standing over my chained body. “You were always too soft, Bastion.” She says. “Too foolish and self-centered to see what I really needed.” The same man stands behind her, arms folded, looking like a muscle-bound god. “You want me to kill him, Flame?” She smiles “No. let him rot. He was never worth my time.” The vision faded and I screamed, not out loud, my dry throat couldn’t handle it. But inside, where it counts. Where she wants it to hurt.

I crossed to them, the Flame still burning in my hands. "Hold on," I whispered. "Hold on. We're going to save you." I pressed the Flame to Soren's chest, letting its warmth flow into him. His body arched, his eyes flying open. I pressed it to Arya's chest, letting its light fill her. She gasped, her body shuddering. They were alive. They were safe. And the Flame was ours. --- Riven I watched my wife heal our friends. The Flame of the First Fire burned in her hands, silver and bright and beautiful. She was glowing—not just her silver fire, but something deeper. Something ancient. Something that had been waiting for her all along.

Aurelian did not respond. “You allowed interference.” Silence. Then the Archangel’s gaze shifted. To Kaelith. “You are the cause.” Kaelith placed a hand lightly over his chest. “Wow. Straight to blame. I like it.” The Archangel raised its hand. The realm responded. From nothing, a weapon formed. A whip. Not physical. Not entirely. It burned with a flame that did not flicker, did not spread, but consumed everything it touched. Its edges dissolved into mist, trailing something that did not belong to any known element.

"It's thirty feet tall, covered in metallic plating, and it's looking at the front gate like a snack tray!" "I am opening fire!" Ethan shouted back, pulling the trigger on his flamethrower and bathing the beast's snout in a roaring fifty-foot stream of orange fire! WHOOOOOOSH! The giant Iron Boar didn't even blink. The intense heat simply made the steel-like hide along its face glow a dull, cherry red. It let out a deafening, metallic snort that blew soot, ember sparks, and hot steam straight back into Ethan's face, sending him tumbling backward into a pile of empty supply crates!